


You'll Never Believe What I Shoved Up My Ass This Time!

by accidental-mormon (crazyhomoinspace)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, DJ Otabek Altin, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Sex Toys, youtuber yuri plisetsky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 08:58:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12055608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyhomoinspace/pseuds/accidental-mormon
Summary: Yuri Plisetsky reviews sex toys on YouTube. He's never had a partner to share the experience with. Otabek Altin wants to change that.





	You'll Never Believe What I Shoved Up My Ass This Time!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!!
> 
> I'm back!!!! I told you I wouldn't be gone long. 8) This is one of two new fics I'm working on! I hope everyone enjoys it! If you do, please remember to leave lots of kudos and comments!!!
> 
> EDIT: I FORGOT TO CLICK THE MULTIPLE CHAPTERS BUBBLE. THERE WILL BE SIN.

For Yuri Plisetsky, the worst part of being a YouTuber wasn’t trying to figure out new, interesting content. It wasn’t interacting with his fanbase, or updating his social media fourteen times a day. No. It was the editing that drove him insane.

Sure, Yuri had chosen to become a YouTuber. He had loved being in the spotlight since he was little, and he’d always gotten a kick out of making the biggest splash he could. That was why, when it came to making videos, he chose a more controversial route. 

He reviewed sex toys.

At eighteen years old, he made a living shoving things up his butt and telling others, on camera, how it felt. 

His mother would be so proud.

With a final click, the video he’d been working so hard to cut and censor where appropriate was uploading, and he was done. Not that his work was  _ ever _ done, really-- the box of cool new toys waiting to be tested was empty. It was time to shop. Well, really, it was time to go on Twitter, ask for suggestions, and  _ then  _ go shopping. Sometimes, though, the websites got overwhelming. Sometimes, they were boring. There were only so many varieties of dildo on adammale.com, and Yuri owned most of them. Yuri didn’t feel like spending hours and hours combing through the deep parts of the internet, using his business credit card on sketchy sex toy shops. He wanted instant gratification. 

As far as instant gratification went, nothing could beat the convenience of having a world-class sex shop around the corner from his apartment. Some people went to the grocery store every few days. Others paid regular visits to the pharmacy, or to the liquor store. Yuri Plisetsky went to  _ Eros _ .

_ Eros _ had been owned for decades by Yakov Feltsman. Realizing, however, that most people didn’t want to buy vibrators and bondage gear from a cranky old man and his terrifying femme dom of a now ex-wife, Yakov had recently retired and hired on new staff. It hadn’t taken long for the new manager, Viktor Nikiforov, to catch on to Yuri’s game, and had found a few of Yuri’s somehow still-monetized videos. After taking a moment to properly chastise his youngest customer for being so naughty in the public eye, he had offered Yuri a fairly handsome sum of money in the form of a sponsorship. Yuri was a very popular creator of not-safe-for-work content, and he brought  _ Eros _ a lot of business, both in-person and online. All Yuri had to do was shove things up his butt and tell people about it, and flash  _ Eros’ _ logo in the credits. It was a win-win.

The weather in the city was unseasonably warm that day. Yuri hummed as he stepped over his cat, grabbing the first shirt and pair of shorts he could find. He tied the laces on the high-top leopard-print sneakers that he wore everywhere, and grabbed his backpack from where it hung on the hook by the door. 

The shop was literally right around the corner from his apartment, maybe two full blocks, at the most. But one obstacle stood between Yuri and his preferred vibrator vendor.

Shake Shack. 

Yuri didn’t look like the kind of person who could be so easily enthralled by the smell of french fries. He was tall and lean, standing a respectable 6’0 without taking into consideration the height of his shoes. He was skinny, with just a little bit of baby fat remaining on his cheeks. His limbs were long and his stride matched. People told him all the time that he was built like a dancer. That would make fucking sense, since his mother was some showgirl, and if it hadn’t been for a bum knee, he’d have a successful career in ballet rather than shoving things up his ass for money. Even then, a taupe knee support stood out against the stark white of his sun-deprived skin. 

Blonde half-ponytail bobbing behind him, Yuri ducked into the restaurant. He came out with two bags and a milkshake. He sipped it eagerly, sunglasses hiding his green eyes as he sauntered into the dimly lit sex toy shop.

“Hello, Yurio.”

The softly spoken nickname came from the girl at the counter, a scantily clad redhead named Mila. Yuri felt his skin crawl, but managed to ignore it in favor of the dessert he was sucking down. He plopped one of the bags down on the counter, which prompted the girl to fish out one of the burgers. 

“Who’s here today?” Yuri asked, setting his shake on the counter, out of the way of any customers, and unwrapping his burger. He’d ordered the messiest sandwich that he could, a cheeseburger with a fried, cheese-stuffed portobello mushroom on top, as well as the usual lettuce and tomato. He took a big, satisfying bite, finally lifting his sunglasses to the top of his head.   
  
“Me, Viktor, and Georgi.”

Yuri huffed. “No Pig today? Shit, I brought five burgers.” 

Mila laughed. “I’m sure I can make those disappear for you.”

Their little conversation came to a halt as two men emerged from the backroom. One looked like he hadn’t gotten the memo that the world’s emo phase ended in 2010. His leather pants were tight, and his eyeliner was thick. Just looking at the guy was making Yuri sad. 

The other guy had a similar, but yet so opposite effect. He looked like the sun shone out of his ass, with bright blue eyes and platinum hair. He was wearing a fucking bow tie, for fuck’s sake, paired with a long-sleeved button-up and a pink and blue argyle sweater vest. Who the fuck wore  _ slacks _ to peddle anal lubricant? Viktor fucking Nikiforov, that was who. 

“I think you’re mixed up,” Yuri deadpanned, gesturing at Viktor’s outfit. “Isn’t your husband supposed to be the lame shrink?”

“He’s a  _ sex therapist _ ,” Viktor corrected, seemingly offended that Yuri could belittle his lover’s profession so easily. 

See, Viktor had met Yuuri Katsuki when the guy had responded to a Help Wanted ad for the shop when Yakov had handed the keys over. Yuuri was a student at the local university, working on his Bachelor’s, and later his Master’s, in Psychology. He worked at the shop all through his time in school, and the two massive saps had fallen in love, or whatever. They’d even gotten engaged between the rabbit vibrators and prostate massagers. Well, Yuuri had finally graduated, and had gotten some kind of certification in Sex Therapy. From what Yuri understood, he’d be helping old people get it on, or something. He’d also be helping transgender youths through their transitions and queer adults come to terms with their sexualities, but Yuri had really clung to the whole ‘old people sex’ bit.

“Okay, so he’s a shrink who tells people to get laid,” Yuri shrugged. “I could do that, but you don’t see me making the big bucks from it,” he grumbled. He took a bite from his burger, letting the mash of bread, vegetables, mushroom, cheese, and cow roll in his half-open mouth while Viktor stared at him.

Blink. “Wha?”

“Are you really criticizing my outfit while you’re not even wearing pants?”

Yuri looked down at how outfit. His shoes were in place, bright white socks peeking through the folds of the tongue. The compression brace on his knee was still there. His shirt, however, black and featuring a badass tiger head, was long enough to hit mid-thigh.

Oh.

“I’m wearing shorts,” he defended, lifting his arms over his head to reveal that he was, in fact, fully clothed. Viktor looked visibly relieved. While Yuri brought his sandwich back down to his mouth, before he could even really process that Viktor was concerned that he was pantsless  _ in a sex toy shop _ , the bell on the door let out a little chime.

And Yuri Plisetsky’s heart practically jumped into his throat. He choked on it, along with a bite of burger.

The man standing in the door was the most beautiful son of a bitch that Yuri Plisetsky had ever seen in his life. He wasn’t very tall, but he could tell through the plain black and white hoodie he wore that he was probably built like a God. His hair was glossy, styled into a trendy undercut, with the top falling into beautiful, gentle brown eyes. 

‘I bet he’s got the cutest brown nipples,’ Yuri found himself thinking, though he’d be sure to remind his brain that those kinds of thoughts weren’t normal.

The guy’s boots were loud on the easy-clean wood-look tile that Viktor had installed. Yuri had to dive behind the extensive lube selection to avoid being caught staring at the strategically placed tears in this guy’s jeans. 

Fuck, he was beautiful.

Fuck, he  _ had _ to get his number.

Before Yuri could devise a plan, Mila, who was probably fucking telepathic and  _ knew _ that the new customer was Yuri Plisetsky’s favourite flavor, was already in action.

“Hey, big boy,” she purred. “Something I can help you find?” 

The guy looked up a her like a deer caught in headlights. Yuri swore he saw a little blush, and he wasn’t exactly sure how he was going to make it out alive. 

“Just looking, thanks.” 

Yuri turned to look, and Viktor was gone. He looked back at the counter, and Mila was gone. That meant that, along with Georgi, he was alone in the showroom with that beautiful stranger. 

Fuck.

Yuri made himself busy with the toys in front of him. The ‘novelty’ section was one of his favourites, so it wasn’t like he was out of his depth there.

He was, however, out of his depth when he felt a gentle hand on his back. He turned, holding his burger in one hand, and a random dildo in the other. 

“Excuse me, do you work here?”

No fucking way.

Though Yuri was quite a bit taller than this handsome young man, the other’s presence was intimidating. His expression was kind of dull, but Yuri could see a bit of a blush over his nose. Yuri looked down at the dildo in his hand-- one shaped to resemble a cob of corn-- and the rest of his burger.

His brain had switched to the ‘Off’ position.   
  
“Yeah,” he nodded. Not… technically a lie. He looked down at the burger. “...Don’t mind that, it’s been a slow day.” 

The nervous smile was adorable. 

“I’m newly single. I’m just.... Looking for something.... Comparable, I guess.” 

Oh, this was hard for him. He’d probably never even gone into a sex shop before. But Yuri was facing an even tougher challenge-- not springing a boner while holding a corn dildo. 

“So… uh, you like girls?” Yuri asked. “There are some, y’know, Fleshlights and stuff over here. Make sure to get some good lube. I’ve seen people think they’ve got magic dicks or whatever. Trust me. Use lube,” he deadpanned. “This one is apparently, like, super vagina-y.” 

To Yuri’s excitement, he didn’t look all that interested.

“I don’t just like girls,” the guy explained. “Do you have something more… neutral?” he asked.

God was present in that sex toy shop that day. 

“They have mouth and ass attachments,” Yuri shrugged. “But… this one’s my favourite.” He picked up a Tenga Flex. “The ridges are good, and it feels awesome if you cover the airhole.” 

Shyly, the boy plucked one off of the shelf. 

Good.

“I think this is enough to start. Thank you. Can you-- uh--?” he gestured toward the register.

Shit.

Georgi.

“Georgi’ll take care of that. It’ll make him feel like he has a purpose.”

Really, the thought of Georgi ringing this man up was enough to give him palpitations. See, Georgi didn’t… pay attention to the outside world. The poor son of a bitch was, almost certainly, browsing the internet, looking at engagement rings. Of course, he and his girlfriend had broken up over a month ago. If Mila had been up there, she would know what to do. She’d get his number. She’d get his first and last name, date of birth, mother’s maiden name, and his favourite flavor of ice cream.

But no. It had to be fucking Georgi up there.

“Will this be all?” Georgi asked, ringing Yuri’s Mystery Man up for the Tenga Flex and a small bottle of trial-sized lubricant that was discounted at the register. He looked up to see a very animated Yuri Plisetsky waving his arms maniacally behind his customer. 

‘GET HIS NUMBER’ was mouthed in excess, along with Yuri pointing wildly at his phone.

“Yes, please,” the man nodded while Georgi put his purchases in a black, unlabeled bag.

“Okay. That’ll be, uh, forty three seventy five..” He paused, trying to figure out Yuri’s wild gesturing. “Would you… like to join our… email list?”

Yuri smacked his forehead and walked out of view, dejected. 

Too polite to decline, the man gave Georgi his email along with his credit card. Georgi swiped it and sent him on his way.

When the shop was empty once again, Yuri emerged from the shelves, waving the corn dildo at the raccoon-eyed cashier. 

“What the  _ shit,  _ Georgi?!” he yelled. “I wanted his  _ phone number _ ,” he mourned.

“I got his email?” Georgi defended.

Yuri groaned. “Yeah, like that’s gonna do me any good? What am I gonna do, casually slide into his inbox? ‘To Whom it May Concern, You’re hot. Yours truly, the blonde dude who definitely doesn’t work at that sex toy shop. P.S. there is no email list, and the clerk committed fraud to get your information.’” He groaned. “I’m going to die a virgin.”

Georgi shrugged. “I got his name.” 

Yuri perked up. “You could have  _ led _ with that, asshole.”

“Why? It’s more fun to watch you freak out.”

“Fuck you, what’s his name?”

Viktor stuck his head out from the back room. “Don’t make it that easy, Georgi! Make him buy something first, the little loiterer!” he sang.

Yuri groaned. “This is the last time I bring your asses food,” he snarled, shoving the corn dildo down on the counter.

Yuri walked out with a bag and, written across the entirety of the receipt in Sharpie was ‘OTABEK ALTIN.’

* * *

 

Yuri went home that night a little more bummed than when he’d left. His cat, an adorable Ragdoll named Potya, met him at the door and gave him a headbutt as he walked behind the couch. Once he was in his bedroom, he reached into the bag and tossed the purple corn dildo-- complete with corn balls-- into his box of items to review. He plopped himself down on his bed, tearing the tie out of his hair and letting the wavy blonde locks hit his shoulders. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about that guy. His voice had been deep and strong. His eyes looked so gentle-- which in his opinion, sounded really, really gay. But it was true. It was love at first sight. Not that Yuri believed in love at first sight, but the sparks that had flown up his spine had to mean something. 

It didn’t matter. He’d never see him again. He’d never smell his tasteful cologne or see his probably cute, brown nipples. He’d never get to see his face as he played with that toy, or even better, put his dick in Yuri’s ass. 

Okay, that was a lot to assume after a five minute interaction, but Yuri Plisetsky was dramatic. 

He sighed, forlorn, ready to post some cute, sad-faced selfies on Instagram. He picked up his phone, and almost ignored the little purple, pink, and orange camera icon in his notifications. He got hundreds of them a day. But, for some reason, he did.

**@DJ-ALTIN is now following you.**

No. No way.

Yuri clicked on the profile, and recognized the profile picture as the boy from the shop. 

‘Otabek Altin. 21. DJ.’ 

Yuri screamed and threw his phone. He didn’t, however, see the smug text from Mila which said only ‘You’re welcome!’ with six eggplant emojis.


End file.
